


Robin Eternal

by The_Uninformed_Zennial



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman Beyond, Batman and Robin (Comics), Robin (Comics)
Genre: Adult Damian Wayne, Alternate Universe - Court of Owls | Talon (DCU), Angst, BAMF Bruce Wayne, BAMF Diana (Wonder Woman), Baby Terry McGinnis, Bad Person Ra's al Ghul, Body Dysphoria, Body Modification, Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Communicating, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Choose Your Own Ending, Court of Owls, Creepy Ra's al Ghul, Damian Wayne Feels, Damian Wayne Has a Heart, Damian Wayne Needs a Hug, Damian Wayne is Ra's al Ghul, Diana (Wonder Woman) Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson Has Issues, Dick Grayson Loves Barbara Gordon, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson is Robin, Dick Grayson is a Talon, Dick Grayson-centric, Evil Slade Wilson, Forever, Gen, Good Sibling Jason Todd, Hurt Dick Grayson, I Tried, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Going to Hell, I'm Sorry, Immortality, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Jason Todd Has Issues, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Lazarus Pit (DCU), Mentioned Cassandra Cain, Mentioned Diana (Wonder Woman), Mentioned Stephanie Brown, Minor Original Character(s), Minor Slade Wilson, Non-Consensual Body Modification, One Shot, Pain, Past Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson, Peter Pan References, Presumed Dead Bruce Wayne, Protective Damian Wayne, Protective Slade Wilson, Resurrected Jason Todd, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Sweet Tim Drake, Terry McGinnis is Batman, Tim Drake Needs Love, Tim Drake is Red Robin, Young Dick Grayson, but - Freeform, for option b
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:00:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29294820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Uninformed_Zennial/pseuds/The_Uninformed_Zennial
Summary: The Talon had told him once, the destiny life had chosen for him. He didn’t understand at the time what it meant, but it had terrified him all the same.“The Court of Owls has sentenced you to live.” The hollow voice of his grandfather said. “Your life will be eternal. Your purpose, everlasting. Your fate, sealed.”But then Batman burst through the skylight and the rest was history.-------Or:What would it have been like if Dick had become Robin after being a Talon? How would he deal with immortality and the fact that he could never age?Warnings: Suicidal idealization and graphic depictions of self-harm. Stay safe my friends!
Relationships: Barbara Gordon & Dick Grayson, Diana (Wonder Woman) & Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson & Alfred Pennyworth, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Original Character(s), Dick Grayson & Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson & Terry McGinnis, Ra's al Ghul & Dick Grayson, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson
Comments: 11
Kudos: 92





	1. The Eternal Robin

He didn’t understand it at first, what the shimmers of gold that flecked his icy blue eyes meant, all he knew was that he hated them. They reminded him of hours spent in the dark... of ice flowing through his veins… of pain and sorrow and slavery... of death. That’s why he liked his robin suit, and the mask that covered his eyes. When he was Robin he didn’t have to think about the men in the faceless white masks or the Talon with the sharp claws. When he was Robin he could fly.

But Bruce didn’t like that. He wanted Dick to face his fears. The young boy told his mentor he wasn’t afraid. Bruce told him he would be. He had tried to explain once, what the men in the faceless white masks did to him. He said Dick would be little forever. 

“Like a fairy?” the small child had half-laughed while balancing precariously on a stalagmite. This brought the gaze of his brooding mentor, who had been staring at the results of a blood test for the last hour and a half, to face his young ward. 

The man had a strange expression on his face, “More like Peter Pan.”

Dick gently lowered himself from the handstand he had been in moments before, and sat cross legged on the floor. “Oh.” he mumbled, trying to understand what that would mean for his future. Aside from the whole never aging past eight thing, he couldn’t see any disadvantages. So after a moment of reflection, he got back up off the floor and skipped over to the trapeze Bruce had given him for his ninth birthday, which had been roughly two years ago. Already the years were beginning to meld together, but that didn’t matter. Not right now. So with a single breath the ageless Robin began to fly.

With every thrust of his arms and every twist of his hips he pushed down what had happened. He ignored his fate. He pretended he was free.

\-------

The Talon had told him once, the destiny life had chosen for him. He didn’t understand at the time what it meant, but it had terrified him all the same.

“The Court of Owls has sentenced you to live.” The hollow voice of his grandfather said. “Your life will be eternal. Your purpose, everlasting. Your fate, sealed.”

But then Batman burst through the skylight and the rest was history.

\-------

It wasn’t until Dick turned fifteen that he began to realize what not aging would mean for him. Barbara, the girl he had crushed on for years, was taking someone else to prom. It shouldn’t have hurt, I mean, what could she do, bring an eight year old as her date? No. Not without drawing some seriously strange attention from other people. Besides, who was he to hold her back? It wasn’t like they could raise children and grow old together. 

Dick was stuck, permanently frozen at the age he hated most and Barbara needed to move on. He looked at himself in the mirror, trying to cement the idea in his brain, but his eyes flashed gold every time he thought about her name. He hated it. The ever present reminder of what he could never have, of what had been taken away. It was enough to make him want to claw his eyes out. 

So he did. ...Or tried to at least. He stood in front of the mirror and dug his inhumanely strong nails into the tender flesh around his eyes. It took time and effort and pressure, and for once Dick was glad he could never fully file down the sharp edges of his deformed claw-like nails. The metal-laced keratin pulled back against his skin, over and over and over again. It felt good. The pain turned into a tingling sensation as his body tried to repair itself. He wouldn’t let it. He dug his claws in again and again and again. He kept at it until blood coated his fingers and dripped into his eyes. All he could see was red and black… and gold. Of course. Even his blood was tinted with the golden poison. How ironic. The substance he thought he could rid himself of through the removal of his eyes resided within his very bloodstream. There truly was no escape from the wretched court of owls. Now everything, even his blood, reminded him of that fact.

He laughed. Cold and dead and maniacal. A laugh that would’ve given the Joker nightmares. He laughed until he couldn’t breathe. He laughed until he cried. It wasn’t until his breath hitched and his gasping slowed that he could hear the frantic rapping against his bathroom door. 

“Master Richard,” the english butler called through the opposite side of the maple wood door, “is everything alright?”

_ No. _ The voice inside Dick’s head cried.  _ No, everything was not alright. Nothing had been right since his parents took a swan dive off the trapeze. Nothing had been right since his immortal grandad kidnapped and tortured him. Nothing had been right since his blue eyes turned gold. Nothing would be right ever again. _ The tears continued to fall, salt water pouring into the open wounds underneath his eyes. He opened the door.

The butler stood in the doorway, taking in the small blood-soaked tear-stained child standing in front of him. “Oh no. My dear boy.” he cooed, pulling the eight year old body into his black and white suit, “We will have none of this.”

Dick sobbed into his old but vital arms, and they stood there, holding each other, until Dick could breathe again.

“Come now,” Alfred softly commanded, “let’s get you cleaned up and put this awful business behind us. Yes?”

Dick couldn’t make words come out of his mouth, so he nodded instead. He took the man’s hand and the two of them climbed out of the bloody bathroom together.

\-------

Dick had asked Bruce once, why he couldn’t go out on patrol.

“You’re still just a kid Dick.” Bruce chided, placing the torn Robin suit on the counter, just above Dick’s reach.

Dick had gotten shot while on patrol earlier that week. It had been bad, even with his electrum enhanced healing abilities. He’d been on bedrest for a whole day while he recovered, and apparently Bruce had decided that was the last straw. He had been making moves to shut down Robin for the last year and a half as he noticed Dick getting more and more reckless with his tricks. He thought his ward might have a death wish… and maybe he was right. The scars around his light blue and deep golden eyes served as testament to that idea. But still, Dick could make his own decisions, and if he wanted to die then that was his choice. Bruce had no right to take that away from him.

“I would’ve turned eighteen this year.” He yelled, ever frustrated with his mentor’s lack of understanding. “I’m a legal adult. You have no right to take Robin away from me. Not again.”

The last time Robin had been taken away was when Dick tried to hurl himself off a building without a grappling hook to stop his fall. Of course, the poison in his veins refused to let him off that easy. But still...

“Dick,” the man continued.

“No,” Dick cut him off, “I am tired of being treated like a kid. I may be stuck in this stupid body for the rest of my life, but there is nothing keeping me here with you. If you won’t let me make my own decisions here, I’ll go somewhere I can.”

“Dick, wait!” The man called. But it was too late. Dick was already gone.

———-

Then Jason died and everything changed. Dick had been living on the streets in Bludhaven for about three years when he finally got wind of the billionaire’s dead son. Despite everything that the two of them had been through, Dick couldn’t imagine how much the loss must’ve meant for Bruce. He knew how much his two Robin’s meant to him. He’d seen the concerned look in the man’s eyes whenever another of Dick’s suicide attempts failed. It was broken, and hard, and damaged.

That was honestly why he left. He couldn’t stand seeing the man he loved like a father feel the pain of losing a son that had never really been there in the first place. Bruce needed to move on, and he couldn’t do that while Dick was still an active member of his life. So he left, fell off the face of the earth for a while, and tried to find the secret to ending his life. Sure, it was lonely, but loneliness was better than inflicting pain on the people he loved. So he made due.

He was even glad, if not a bit jealous, when Jason came into the picture. Finally, Bruce had someone to love who would always be there, someone who wasn’t broken beyond repair. The newspapers painted the kid as feisty, full of spunk and spite just as much as he was full of life. He was perfect. The son Bruce had always needed. Someone who was strong enough to pull him out of the self-isolating funks he would stick himself into. Someone who could handle the darkest parts of Gotham without losing himself in them. Someone who could shine light and warmth and  _ life _ into the depths of the batcave. Jason was everything Bruce needed and more. Until he wasn’t.

The kid had run off to Africa or some shit and gotten himself killed. Of course. Of course the one living son Bruce had gotten to replace his dead and defective first model would go and die. Of course the one light in Bruce’s dark life would leave him… again. Of course Dick had been wrong. Of course he couldn’t just find a way to end his immortal soul in peace. No. He should’ve known life wouldn’t ever let the right solution be the easy one. 

Bruce had lost another son. He was spiraling down a hole that was dark and deep, just as never ending as his loss. He needed someone to pull him out, someone to show him that even in the darkest of nights there is still light, you just might have to look a little harder for it. Alfred couldn’t do it, he was too caught up in his own grief. Barbara couldn’t do it, she was dealing with her own trauma. Lucious and Thompkins were too far removed from the situation to provide any real help. And no matter how much he wanted to help, Jim could never know both sides of Bruce’s life, and so could never provide the amount of help Bruce needed. That meant only one person was left to save the bat. The same person who had left three years prior in order to spare him the same pain that was tearing him apart now.

So Dick came back to Gotham. He donned the Robin suit again. 

As much as he hated it, he knew someone had to do it. Batman needed his Robin, and Bruce needed his son. Besides, the streets were getting a little too cold for his immortal liking anyway. 

But as much as he returned for Bruce, to help Batman heal from the loss of his son. He stayed because of the kid who wore the suit before him. Each time he put on the outfit, each time he covered his face with the signature mask, he felt closer and closer to the boy who would’ve been his brother. As the years went on, his jealousy disappeared. In its stead was a strange sense of purpose that welled up in the young man’s heart. A purpose that claimed his little brother’s sacrifice could not be in vain. As time went on he began to realize that Robin wouldn’t die with his Little Wing. Robin would be eternal… as long as Dick could bear the weight of it all. It was a heavy burden, but he was sure that with enough to keep himself busy, he could do it.

He was wrong.

———-

Deathstroke found him once, when the heaviness of immortality weighed on the young superhero until he had seen no other option than to throw himself off a building. He landed in a pile of his own blood and guts. The man just stood there and stared at the child while his body regrew the parts too damaged to save. Dick glared at him through the pain.

“That isn’t going to kill you, kid.” He called, when it seemed like the worst of the damage was fixed. 

Dick knew that, of course. He wasn’t trying to kill himself. He couldn’t. He promised his dead brother that the name he died for would live on. But life hurt, so, so much and he wanted to die, so, so badly. So he threw himself off the roof, praying that maybe, maybe just this once, his body wouldn’t stitch itself back together.

It did, and the mercenary knew it would, so he pulled out one of the guns he always kept at his side and pointed it at the young vigilante. The boy stayed relaxed, Slade would never shoot him like this, not when he so desperately wanted to die already. The man hesitated before proving the kid right and pocketing the pistol before turning to leave. 

But before going, the ex-soldier added in a soft tone, “Only a bullet to the head will do.” Then he disappeared.

\-------

Over the years Dick thought back to that interaction and wondered if he would take the easy way out. But those thoughts became more distant and faded faster as Dick slowly came to terms with his life. Dick’s thoughts of suicide waned and the number of sidekicks in the batcave waxed. It all started with their little stalker, Tim Drake. The young boy (of course he was about four years older than Dick looked at the time, but twelve compared to twenty five was young) had discovered the unaging nature of Robin, and through some careful observations of the inhabitants of Wayne manor, had determined the duo’s identities. So of course, when his best friend turned up missing he didn’t go to the cops. No, he went straight to Wayne Manor.

Waking up in the middle of the night to the light knock of a frightened twelve year old is not the most pleasant experience, but it was, nevertheless, the beginning of the brightest era in the eternal Robin’s life. Tim was smart and funny, intelligent and bashful, everything Dick had ever needed in a sibling. And somehow, the kid understood. He understood Dick’s fear of being alone in a way that no one, not even Bruce could. He also knew the cure; people.

Tim collected people the way baseball enthusiasts collect cards. Within months of joining the team their ranks had already doubled. Even Jason, who had come back from the dead with a deadly vendetta against Bruce, rejoined the family. Dick couldn’t have been happier. With every team-up and movie night and ice cream sundae, he could feel the pain of loneliness slip away, piece by piece. Who cared if he never aged? If life stayed like this, maybe living forever wouldn’t be so bad. 

\-------

Dick asked his brother once, “What does it feel like to die?” one night after both had stayed up far too late playing video games. They would have both been drinking, but the family still refused to let Dick have alcohol, despite being mentally well over the legal age and having a regenerative liver, but whatever. Instead Jason was close to drunk and Dick was sprawled on the floor, laying on his bigger brother’s chest.

“Well,” he paused for a long time, staring up at the ceiling like he was looking into the depths of the cosmos. Dick was beginning to think he wouldn’t talk about it, but then he opened his mouth, “It’s kinda like that place between being awake and asleep. Everything’s dark and empty and time is nonexistent. But sometimes, you get glimpses of something and you can’t quite figure out what it all means before you get pulled back under.”

Dick nodded. “Seems… peaceful.”

“In a sense.” Jason paused. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Well, you already have.”

Jason lifted his head to glare at his brother, who gave an obnoxious grin in reply. Jason ruffled his brother’s hair, before laying back on his hands and staring at the ceiling again. 

“What’s it like to never age?”

Dick sighed, “It’s like watching everyone around you get new clothes while you get stuck with the light up shoes you had in fourth grade.”

“Sounds lonely.”

“It is.”

\-------

Of course, life didn’t stay peaceful and calm like those few years of joyfulness. Instead, one day the unimaginable happened. Batman left on a mission and didn’t come back. Robin was alone. Left to protect Gotham with the ten year old son of the bat and a menagerie of various mentally ill young adults. The cowl didn’t fit. The bat signal lay dormant. The world was in upheaval. But Gotham did not fall.

Dick learned from Tim’s example. He drew strength from numbers. Old friends and allies, people who had grown up without him. Heroes from every corner of the world came to help protect the city their fallen comrade had died to save. Batman may have died, but his legacy lived on. 

His legacy was eternal.

\-------

He asked Ra’s Al Ghul once, what it was like to live forever. His tired eyes and wrinkled hands spoke of centuries past in solitude. The white hairs that graced his head showed knowledge beyond all the greatest libraries known to men. The scars on his back and the strength in his veins told the story of death and rebirth to be repeated until the end of time. He had the privilege of growing old.

Dick knew he would never have that. His eyes would stay golden and youthful and bright. His hands taught with the strength of immaturity. His hair eternally black as the midnight sky. His skin scarless from the chemicals in his veins. He knew his eternity would look so much different than that of the old man who sat in front of him. But still, he needed to know how to survive the everlasting cycle that was eternity, and this villain was the only human he knew who had done it successfully and was willing to tell his tale.

The man studied him with a strange green glint in his eye before saying, “It is akin to finding an anchor while lost at sea. You must let go of everything else, save your purpose.”

Dick laughed in his eternally childish chuckle, “If only it were that easy.”

The man sighed, images of lost battles and dead loved one’s rippling across his vision for a moment. He bowed his head, his lips dripping earnesty through every word he spoke, “If only it were easy indeed.”

\-------

Years passed by like minutes, each one becoming less and less memorable. Dick could no longer remember the sound of his parent’s laughter, or the touch of his mother’s hand. Yet still he lived on. Cass and Tim and Stephanie all left the life one after the other for various reasons. Jason had died. Again, and permanently this time. And Damian… Damian returned to his roots. 

Dick was alone. The sole protector of a forgotten city. The forever-child scaring criminals out of their minds for half a century. He was so tired. So tired of living in the shadows. So tired of the never-ending fight. So tired of losing the people he loved. For the first time in a long time he was tempted to take Deathstroke’s advice and end it. Promises to long dead loved ones be damned. But then he heard a knock, much like the one he heard all those years ago when Tim was still young enough to laugh. Small, and sweet and innocent.

A teenager, one with raven dark hair and a deep determination set in his gait stood at the door to the manor. Terry McGinnis was who he claimed to be. The boy had watched Robin take care of the city by himself for so long and was determined that he would do it no longer. He wanted to reclaim the mantle of Batman, and wanted Robin’s help to do so.

“What do you say?” he asked, hope seeping through his nervous smile.

Dick slammed the door in his face. And locked it. For good measure. Too many kids had died in this stupid war. Too many lives had been lost. This kid was not going to be added to the list.

Unfortunately the boy was persistent, he made a flying suit and everything (it was crude, but admittedly impressive). The kid followed Dick out to crime scenes, he took on bad guys Robin couldn’t handle, and eventually he made a name for himself. Batman was reborn in the eyes of Gotham. No. No, Batman was beyond reborn. Batman was reincarnated into a stupid teenager who was going to get his dumbass killed unless someone took him under their wing. 

So, much to Robin’s chagrin, the dynamic duo returned, and for a little while life wasn’t so lonely. Terry was kind, and strong. He was scary when he needed to be, but brought a certain amount of joy and brightness to the suit that Bruce had lacked. He was Batman, but beyond anything Bruce ever could’ve dreamed. And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough.

\-------

He asked Diana once, what it felt like to lose everyone she loved. She looked down at the small boy and let a single tear fall from her nearly immortal cheek.

It had been years since the Justice League had last come together. Each member of the original team slowly faded away with time. Bruce had been first, but the rest followed shortly thereafter. One heroic sacrifice after the next until Wonder Woman was the last warrior standing. And then she left. Disappeared with her fallen comrades in arms and became Diana Prince of Themyscira once more. Dick had spoken to her once, after she disappeared from the public eye, he gave her his phone number and told her to stop by if she ever needed someone to talk. 

When Terry took on the mantle of her long-dead comrade, she finally accepted the invitation. The knock on the door was strong and filled with excitement. She stared into the security camera with a sliver of hope gleaming in her eye. Dick hated to crush it.

“Is he...?” Is all she had to say, waiting on the steps outside the marble coated mansion.

“No, Di. He’s not coming back.”

“Then who…?”

It was at that moment Terry came up to the door. His jaw dropped through the floor. “Wonder Woman?”

Diana reached out her hand as Dick made introductions, “Diana, meet Terry, the new Batman.”

Her whole posture deflated, obvious even to the untrained eye. Yet the smile on her face stayed strong, and her face lit up with genuine interest in the boy she was meeting in front of her. Nevertheless, as she shook the boy’s hand, Dick could’ve sworn he’d seen a tear sneak it’s way past the lids of her perfectly blue eyes. He welcomed her in for a cup of what was once Alfred’s favorite tea. And for the first time in decades, the two friends were not alone in their grief.

\-------

Decades faded into centuries, and centuries to millennium. Soon the world was unrecognizable from that of his youth. Technological advancements and wars and innovations and plagues put the things Dick once held dear to shame. His mission had been adjusted, crime and punishment changed, but were never erased. He laughed once, when he thought about Bruce all those years ago. The man claimed the war he fought against crime would never be done. He was right. But he was also lucky. Who better to fight an eternal war than an eternal soldier? 

No wonder the court of owls had held onto their power for so long. A person who never aged held the power to build nation's up only to watch them fall. Dick would know, he’d done it, all of it. Anything you could ever imagine doing, Dick had done. Run a country? (surprisingly enough) Check. Go skydiving without a parachute? Check. Create world peace? Double check (although they both only lasted momentarily). He would’ve been bored, if it weren’t for the one person who had known him throughout each and every decade. Damian Wayne, the demon’s head.

But soon he, too, would leave. And then, so would Dick. He’d gotten enough out of this life. He’d lived enough to know the endless cycle of joy and pain, of death and rebirth, and he wanted out. It was so unfair that a bunch of wealthy men and women had been able to take his choice away from him at such a young age. He wished he had died with Jason, on that rooftop all those years ago. Or Tim, in that hospital bed that smelled of urine and blood. Or Barbara in that shootout she just couldn’t stand to miss. He was tired of watching his family die. He’d been doing it since he was eight. So when this last one bit the dust, so would he.

\-------

He asked Damian once, long after the mantle of Batman had faded to myth and legend within the history books, why he chose to live forever. The old man smiled down on his never-aging older brother and said through worn out lungs, “So that you wouldn’t have to face eternity alone.”

Dick smiled at the once carefree kid in front of him, “Well that was pretty dumb of you.”

“Oh?” A smile pulled on the man’s cracked lips.

“Yeah. I would’ve died long before this if I didn’t have you to take care of.” He added with a playful push of the man’s shoulders.

But Damian was stiff to the child’s touch. His face contorted into something unrecognizable. His smile turned into a frown. 

“...but I wanted you to live.” He paused, “The eternal Robin, remember?”

The pact. The oath he swore all those years ago.  _ I swear by the cornerstone of the foundation with which Gotham was laid, to protect her from dangers both without and within… And I swear by the lives of my dead parents to avenge their deaths by spending the rest of my life warring on all criminals… And I swear that we two (Batman and Robin) will fight together against crime and corruption and never swerve from the path of righteousness… And I swear by the lives of all those we’ve lost and all those we continue to lose, that I will be Robin... And Robin will be eternal. _

“The world needs a protector, Grayson, and whether or not you like it, that protector is you.” The old man erupted in a fit of coughs. “Richard,” he said, when the coughs died down, “I want you to promise me something.” He gripped his hand with incredible strength for such an old man.

“Of course.”

“Promise me you’ll live.”

Dick stared into his oldest friend-no- into his brother’s eyes… and looked away.

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Richard, please. After all these years I have never asked you for anything. Please, do not deny me my last request.”

“I’m sorry.”

And that was the last time he saw the man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, now that you've finished the main part of the story, you get to choose your ending.  
> If you go up to the main menu you'll see this work has multiple chapters. The first one is what you just finished reading. The second one is a semi-happy ending (labeled Ending A). The third one is a sad ending (labeled Ending B). Both endings are worded the same, save the last two paragraphs, so if you'd like to read them both, feel free to skip down to that point.
> 
> Choose wisely my friends, Dick Grayson's immortal fate hangs in the balance...


	2. Ending A

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You chose the semi-happy ending. Enjoy!

The news of Damian’s death came quickly, and Dick was glad for it. Glad to at last have it all end. He took out the gun he kept in a special case for this day. The same gun that killed Thomas and Martha Wayne all those millennia ago. It was fitting, he thought, that the two people whose deaths had given purpose to his life would play a role in its end. So he took the gun and climbed to the highest point in the place that used to be Gotham City. Right above the place where he thought crime alley had been. The birthplace of Batman. The death of Robin. Fitting, don’t you think?

He loaded the gun, cocked the hammer, and put the sweet, sweet metal against his head. Peace at last. His finger thumbed the trigger.

Then a noise came from behind him, and he paused. A little girl, who looked to be around his physical age, came and sat next to him on the ledge.

“Hi.” she said.

Dick glanced at her, gun still pointed at his head. “Hi?” he asked.

She started to swing her legs back and forth on the side of the building, her eyes reflecting the city in front of her. “So, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Dick said matter-of-a-factly.

“Then what’s with…” she motioned to the gun and his position on the edge of the building.

“I’m tired.” He responded.

“Hm.” she paused for a moment, looking down past her bare feet to the city below. There was something about her that felt spectral, as if she were as light as the breeze. She sat there like that for a few seconds before turning to look at him again. “Me too.”

That was so incredibly sad. How could this child sit here next to a man who was about to blow his brains out and say that she was tired of life? She was too young. She hadn’t seen even a quarter of as much of what the world had to offer as Dick, yet she wanted to die? How..?

“Why?” His internal monologue slipped out.

“Everyone I love always leaves.”

“Hm.” he paused before answering, “Me too.”

A strong wind blew through the buildings, whipping the hair of the two eight year olds who sat on the top of the skyscraper, debating mortality. Dick faintly wondered if she would simply melt into the mist surrounding their golden perch and disappear. He knew if he had the option he certainly would.

“Do you want to know why I don’t?” The young girl asked innocently.

“Because you haven’t seen the world yet?”

“No, silly.” The child smiled, “Life is the same everywhere you go. You don’t have to travel the world to learn that. People hurt each other over and over again in a never-ending cycle. You don’t need a whole lot of time to figure that much out.” She paused, “I don’t end it all because I think… I hope, maybe… that one day I’m going to mean something to someone. That maybe I’ll be the reason somebody chooses to stay. And maybe that’ll make it all worth something.”

He lowered the gun a little bit in his hand. Maybe she was right. Maybe he had made a difference. He thought about all the lives he had saved during his centuries of existence (far too many to count), and all the heroes he trained through the years, and all the lives they saved after their training. Didn’t that mean something? Didn’t all those people’s lives mean something? And yeah, maybe their lives were messed up and broken, and maybe they went on to be hurt again. But they also went on to be happy again. They laughed and sang and danced. They played music and broke bread and built each other up. Maybe all that joy was worth it. Maybe that light was greater than the darkness. Maybe… just maybe, the good guys would finally win. And how sad would it be to miss out on that?

So with the slightest relaxation of his hand, he let the gun that started him down this dark journey fall past his fingertips and into the alley below; where it should’ve stayed all along.


	3. Ending B

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You chose the sad ending. Beware my friends, this ending features an actual suicide. Be safe!

The news of Damian’s death came quickly, and Dick was glad for it. Glad to at last have it all end. He took out the gun he kept in a special case for this day. The same gun that killed Thomas and Martha Wayne all those millennia ago. It was fitting, he thought, that the two people whose deaths had given purpose to his life would play a role in its end. So he took the gun and climbed to the highest point in the place that used to be Gotham City. Right above the place where he thought crime alley had been. The birthplace of Batman. The death of Robin. Fitting, don’t you think?

He loaded the gun, cocked the hammer, and put the sweet, sweet metal against his head. Peace at last. His finger thumbed the trigger.

Then a noise came from behind him, and he paused. A little girl, who looked to be around his physical age, came and sat next to him on the ledge.

“Hi.” she said.

Dick glanced at her, gun still pointed at his head. “Hi?” he asked.

She started to swing her legs back and forth on the side of the building, her eyes reflecting the city in front of her. “So, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Dick said matter-of-a-factly.

“Then what’s with…” she motioned to the gun and his position on the edge of the building.

“I’m tired.” He responded.

“Hm.” she paused for a moment, looking down past her bare feet to the city below. There was something about her that felt spectral, as if she were as light as the breeze. She sat there like that for a few seconds before turning to look at him again. “Me too.”

That was so incredibly sad. How could this child sit here next to a man who was about to blow his brains out and say that she was tired of life? She was too young. She hadn’t seen even a quarter of as much of what the world had to offer as Dick, yet she wanted to die? How..?

“Why?” His internal monologue slipped out.

“Everyone I love always leaves.”

“Hm.” he paused before answering, “Me too.”

A strong wind blew through the buildings, whipping the hair of the two eight year olds who sat on the top of the skyscraper, debating mortality. Dick faintly wondered if she would simply melt into the mist surrounding their golden perch and disappear. He knew if he had the option he certainly would.

“Do you want to know why I don’t?” The young girl asked innocently.

“Because you haven’t seen the world yet?”

“No, silly.” The child smiled, “Life is the same everywhere you go. You don’t have to travel the world to learn that. People hurt each other over and over again in a never-ending cycle. You don’t need a whole lot of time to figure that much out.” She paused, “I don’t end it all because I think… I hope, maybe… that one day I’m going to mean something to someone. That maybe I’ll be the reason somebody chooses to stay. And maybe that’ll make it all worth something.”

He turned to look at her, the barrel of the cool gun pressed against his immortal head. Her words made sense, but they were childish and immature. They knew nothing of the world and the horrors it brought. All the pain and suffering those people he “saved” would return to didn’t sound very safe. It sounded like torture, and Dick would know. Every minute after his parents grew wings made of blood had been nothing but torture and pain. Even in the brightest of moments it was there, lingering behind a dark shadow or jumping up from a loud noise. It was painful and awful and he just wanted it all to end. So he turned to face the girl and did something he shouldn’t have. He stared past her white flowing dress, past her softly braided pigtails, past her kind smile, and straight into her soul. His eyes that had seen every inch of the world burrowed themselves deep inside her mind. A single teardrop slipped from his cheek.

“It won’t.” 

Bang.


End file.
